City of the Damned
by MinakoEguchi
Summary: "I prayed I would see you again." Your lips are so close to mine you may as well be talking against them. "I prayed and prayed and prayed that, somehow, you would bump into me and I could atone for everything I have done."


_~City of the Damned~_

Last time we met, my blood was ablaze.

Fire scarred my vision, battle cries roared from my mouth. And across No Man's Land, you were doing the same. Weapons wielded, banners bared, shields forgotten. There was no plan, no afterthought or doubt. Our war was mighty, would go down in years to come as the most fearful conflict ever fought.

The next morning, as we licked our wounds clean and mopped up spilt blood, me in our- _my_- apartment and you God knows where, I knew I had lost.

Perhaps I had not lost the fight- you were the one to surrender, the one to walk away- but I had lost something far more precious. Something I would never admit to your face. I had lost _you_.

So, as I waited for the cannon smoke to clear, deaf to the clock's slow taunts, blind to all but my favourite picture of you, I cried. For hours I cried. I cried and cried and cried until my tears had run dry. For you. For me. For our doomed, damned love. But that night, I only came to one conclusion. I only came to one realisation.

If each tear I shed over you were one copper coin, I would be a millionaire. But even if I were a millionaire, my life would never be rich if I did not have you.

That summer was dull and grey. The smoke never completely cleared. It hung heavily over my head and heart, falling sometimes in droplets of rain, of tears directly from the angels of Heaven. There was no sunshine, no golden light to kiss me awake and dance with me into a bright new day. Cloud greeted me, and wind, and once even hail, its icy jagged edges splitting more and more cracks into my splintering heart.

Autumn chills clung to my skin like ink to a page. It froze me to my bones, chased around my ankles like a lost puppy. Memories fluttered across my eyelids in drifting, russet debris- _you and me, rolling down the park hill, fingers tangled, stumbling over roots and branches and kicking up caramel leaves, hiding from others, laughter tinkling in the air, your green eyes sparkling like summer grass, your velvet lips soft against mine- _but I never let my gaze chase them. The flickering flames of happiness and you (_for you go hand in hand with it. I cannot be happy without you_) were enough to sting my eyes and chain my body. I could not have you filling my mind every day as well.

But you did. You still do. Which is why I am here, in the same old coffee shop where we met when we were younger, hoping hoping hoping to catch just a glimpse of you.

Maybe, if I see you happy, I can be free. I will never be truly content without you beside me, but maybe if I know life is treating you dearly, I can at last heal.

The girl behind the counter is watching me. I recognise her and associate her with you- _what do I not connect with you these days? Joy, wealth, well-being, life_- but I cannot recall her name. Her hot chocolate brings warmth to my frozen fingertips and a thick, delicious taste to my tongue, so I do not fault her.

I should ask her about you. Just drop you into conversation gently, like a flower onto a calm pond; perhaps she will hint at what you are doing, where you are working, if you have the same idiotic friends- the friends that made you laugh and teased us for hours about our love- as before. Or maybe it will be a pebble instead, and disrupt the calm waters of conversation, upset the last chance I will ever have of hearing about you again.

No. I shall keep my lips buttoned.

She still watches me, though, with those dark green eyes that I often dived into when you held me in your arms and weaved kisses into my hair. It takes all of my strength and sanity to not picture you in her place, to not rise from the ragged old loveseat I used to share with you in kinder times and dance with her and brush my lips against hers and pretend she is you.

But she is nothing like you. Her skin is pale; she will merge in with the snow that is thick on the pavements outside. Yours is sun-kissed and honeyed and often streaked with greyish dirt. Her hair is blonde, like wheat. Yours is dark, like the coffee beans piled high on the counter, packed into plastic machines like we are packed into society's rules and damned expectations.

Her body is small, slight, soft- the perfect interpretation of a perfect wife. Yours is anything but.

I wallow for a moment in my misery, longing for something I never again will have. The hot chocolate is now lukewarm, no longer tickling my fingertips with a shadow of the feeling you would chase over my skin.

How I wish we had never battled, never forced our fears so far into the open. How desperately, hopelessly, mindlessly I wish we could have pretended for longer.

We never could have. I know we could not, yet still I dream of you; still I imagine what life would have been like if terror hadn't infected us, hadn't infected anyone. It was an epidemic of fear of the unknown, even to those who knew of it, and now I am forced to wander through my days in a haze, an empty space by my side.

I raise the mug to my lips- _grapes, I think dully as I see the pattern. Red grapes. You always loved red grapes_- and feel the last dregs of my drink slide down my throat. The taste lingers on my tongue.

I wish you had lingered in my life.

After our fight, you were gone- gone, a shooting star hurtling into my life and then hurtling back out- and I never saw you again. When your hand fit so perfectly with my own, you lived only two streets away. How is it that I have not seen you for over half a year? How is it that you haunt me everywhere you go, yet I cannot truly see you or hear you or believe in you?

Sometimes, I am halfway to believing, and I am almost happy again. Then I wake up properly, and realise that it is only me in a too-big bed in a too-silent room, praying for you to come back to me.

The sky is dark outside. I remember telling you my grandfather once whispered to me, in the dead of night while leaning so far out of my bedroom window, how the Gods would wrap a blanket around the world at night. You laughed, beautiful and rich and so so alive, and bundled me up in a blanket of your love and we stayed that way until the Gods lifted theirs from our part of the earth again.

"We're closing soon," The girl's mouth is moving and I can hear her voice, but it is blank and cold to my loveless ears. She is blunt and outright, but I look up at her and see a shadow of second-hand remorse for me in her face. Her hands scooped the mug up from the table, and turned the image of grapes away from me. She nodded, half to herself, her blonde curls bobbing as though the icy wind that shredded my chest had wormed its way into the café to dance with her. "I wish you luck."

My own head bows a little in thanks, and my fingers bind themselves to my coat to brace the furious winter. A bitter taste swirled in my mouth as I resigned myself to another night without a single sighting of you. Another lonely, heartbreaking night without even knowing if you live in this downtrodden city anymore.

The cold gnaws at my flesh, nipping my neck and cheeks and temples as I hurry down ghostly alleyways illuminated only by the gentle glow of snowflakes sleeping soundly wherever they fell. Graffiti is scrawled on crumbling walls; buildings stoop under the heavy shame of crumbling away.

My eyelids fall briefly, and for a moment I am mad enough to murmur that I know how it feels.

I swerve at the end of the final alley, turning right as my body thoughtlessly takes me back home. I try not to think of how many times we walked down this path together, steps and breaths and hearts in sync, my eyes never leaving yours.

I try, but I fail at the first hurdle.

Echoes tiptoe behind me. I clutch my dark jacket tighter. The wind slams into my face.

For a moment, I can't breathe. Spluttering does nothing to free my lungs of the heavy, polluted air… but it eases my mind and relaxes my body. Slowly, air begins to run free along my bloodstream again, and the only remainder of what happened in the chill that runs its fingertips along my bare skin.

My neck and chin are so cold they could be carved from ice. I wish I had brought your scarf with me so it feels like your arms are around-

I did bring the scarf. I just took it off in the café when I entered.

_Shit._

That is the only thing I have left of you, and now… now it's gone. I cannot go back to the café- the owners hate being disturbed past closing time- but I know that if I do not, they will pass it on to a charity shop and I will never see that scarf again.

It's Saturday night. The café does not open till Monday at half eight, and that day is filled with robotic procedures and copying notes from seven until twelve for me.

At nine, the collectors come, and my beloved scarf- my very last memory of your scent, of your love, of _you_- will be out of my sights forever. My very last reminder that you once loved me as much as I love you… gone.

I stumble. I gasp. I sob.

Great, shuddering shrieks rip up my throat and pour from my lips. _You, gone. Completely gone. My love, my life, gone forever. _A hand flings out to steady myself against the wall. _I can barely function without you! What will happen to me? Will I give up? Will I die? Without you, I want to die. _My knuckles stab into my forehead while tears run faster and faster and faster until I am sure the city will drown in my sorrow.

_I cannot be with you, but I cannot live without you._

Can't you see that?! Why _won't_ you see that?! You've seen how loneliness can consume me. You've seen how heavily scarred I become, how deeply I love. How could you abandon me so readily, so easily, like I meant _nothing to you?!_

My knees are shaking. Trembling in the awful, awful realisation that you are gone.

I bury my face in my free hand, smearing salty tears across ice-tipped cheeks. It stings, but the pain is almost comforting compared to the understanding that _I will never see you or hear from you or have anything to do with you again_.

Your eyes. Your hair. Your lips you skin your smile your sorrow your nose your freckles your hands your hugs your laugh your scent your pout your joy your nerve your-

"Lovino?"

I fall.

"Lovino!"

It can't be.

"Oh, God, Lovino!"

I'm dreaming.

"Please, please, please! Just look up so I know if you're alright!"

It's the cold. It's too much for me and now I'm dreaming. Dreaming of you.

"Look at me!"

My dream is wonderful. Your hands are cupping my jaw, your earthy scent breathing life into me. But I cannot see. I will not open my eyes. When I open them, you will be gone.

"_Please_!"

Your thumbs trickle across my eyelids and it feels so real that for a moment, I contemplate on opening my eyes so I can see you, see your face again. But I am delusional, a madman frozen in a fantasy world. Why would you be here, in front of me, when you've been nothing but a shadow of a ghost of a memory for seven whole months?

I lean forwards. Something hurts. Nothing ever hurts in my dreams and now I'm confused because you're here but it hurts is this a mix between reality and a dream I'm confused and I don't know what's going on please be real please be real pleasebereal!

I open my eyes.

You're real.

I burst into tears.

My hands trail through your hair_- the soft, mass of curls that, in this light, look deeper than midnight black_- down your nose- _strong and broad with a tiny scar diagonally along the bridge_- across your cheeks- _soft to touch and littered with freckles_- down your lips- _full and chapped and divine_- and finally along your strong jaw, its smoothness marred by the prickle of dark stubble.

"You're real." I murmur, my tears slipping into my mouth and painting my tongue with salt. "You're really real."

You smile, and though it's strained and doesn't reach your eyes, it is Heaven. "I'm real." You speak firmly, your accent as heavy as it has ever been as you speak words that you only learnt a decade or so ago. "I'm real, you absolute fool, and I want to know why you were chasing down dodgy alleyways in the dead of night and stopping in the freezing cold when you only have a thin jacket on!"

I am so deliriously happy, so confused and unsure and terrified that I will lose you that I cling to you. Your coat is heavy, yet you easily shrug it off to sling over my shoulders. Everywhere, everywhere, my senses of you assault me and once again, sobs choke me.

You curse, a sound too violent to fall from your angelic lips- _you're my angel, my saviour, my wonderful guardian_- and suddenly, you are hugging me. It takes all my strength to cling back, to calm myself, to do anything at all.

"Santa María." You breathe, just by my ear, so low I can barely hear it. It sends shivers creeping up my spine and my head spins. "Thank you, Santa María, thank you. Thank you so much."

"Why?" I ask. It is the only word I can form when life brimming in my veins after being dead for so many months.

You pull back and rest your forehead against mine. Your touch burns like fire, blazing and scorching, but I refuse to draw back. "I prayed I would see you again." Your lips are so close to mine you may as well be talking against them. "I prayed and prayed and prayed that, somehow, you would bump into me and I could atone for everything I have done."

"You left me." I do not want to say that; I try to bite the words back, to crush them in the back of my throat, but it is no use. They tumble out through chattering teeth, ugly and broken and bare for the entire world to scrutinise. "You left me and you never came back."

Your stunning emerald eyes close briefly, and I see but cannot read the emotions that bubble behind them. "Come on." You rise, graceful and divine, from the icy floor, sweeping me to my feet with you. "Let's hope no one saw us."

* * *

Shock is still flowing freely in my veins, but it is quickly being polluted by angry, red wrath. "You abandoned me." I accuse, a blanket wrapped tightly around my shoulders with another hot chocolate cradled in my lap. I long to have the strength and heartlessness to pull away, but you look so utterly exhausted and completely desperate that I stay where I am, collapsed against your chest, hearing your heart thump in time with my own.

The fire is rumbling, and your scarf is back in my possession, snuggling up against my neck. The waitress gave it to you; knew that you knew me, knew you were special.

It appears that, as you once did over half a year ago, you are taking no chances when it comes to my health.

Your lips are by my ear, sugar sweet as they hesitantly brush against my temple. For a moment, I fear you have been struck dumb. It would certainly make a bit of a change. "I never wanted to." You sigh eventually, dragging a hand through your unruly hair. "But everything just… built up. And then, what with the new law…" You swallow thickly. I understand.

"For years, people fought for love like ours. Even… Even _'normal'_ people," Though you stress the word, your face grows feral. "supported those like us and let us live in harmony with them. And then…."

Your shoulders slump. The fire drains from your eyes. The fight in you seems to be sapping out with each beat of your heart.

"It's illegal to love someone of the same sex in _fifty-seven_ countries, now. It'll result in a life sentence in forty." Your eyes gleam orange in the firelight. I watch tears, glistening like diamonds, build up in your eyes. "Rapists don't get a life sentence. Someone who forces themselves on another doesn't get a life sentence, but someone who simply loves someone of the same sex?" For a moment, you have to bite your lips to stop the tears from falling. I stroke the back of your hand with my thumb, and you cling to me like a lifeline.

You turn to me me, your angelic face streaked with agony, and all of a sudden your lips are on mine, and there's an inferno in my heart, and you are everything that could ever possibly mean anything in the world.

"I don't just love you," You whisper in between kisses. "I _adore_ you." I gasp, my stomach in knots and my heart in a marathon. "And I am absolutely terrified that anything would happen to you if someone found out about us." You draw back to rest your head against the crook of my neck. Damp clings to my shoulder and my cheeks, and I realise we are both weeping.

We stay like that for a few minutes, tangled in each other's touch. You sniff, wiping the back of your hand crudely across your nose. Even at that vile little gesture, my heart stutters and I clutch you tighter, hitting my forehead against your own shoulder.

Failing to keep your breathing heavy, you raise your head and then my own, and rest our foreheads against each other once again. It does not burn me this time, but instead sends tingles of warmth down my face and lift my mouth up into a small smile.

"If you dare leave me again, I will roast you alive." I threaten weakly, staring into pools of emeralds and trying not to melt.

Your eyes soften completely for the first time, and you laugh. It washes over me and makes me feel as though I have just drunk liquid gold. "I know for a fact I never will again. It was a stupid, selfish attempt at keeping you and me both from a prison cell, but instead…" You shrug, thumbs tracing my cheekbones lightly. You look away, hiding the shame that was building up in your eyes. "Instead, it just led us both down a road of despair, and for that I beg for your forgiveness."

"You're an bloody idiot." I tell you bluntly, though I am smiling quietly to myself. "An absolute _fucking moron_."

Your lopsided grin, the one I fell head over heels for back when we were in our mid teens, emerges. It's not perfect- it never will be when there is tear tracks shining on your cheeks- but it is perfect to me. To stress your words, you nuzzle your nose against mine. "But I'm your idiot."

"You are," I confess, albeit awkwardly. My eyes harden, and I take your hand in my own. "And you always will be, no matter how big the fear of a prison cell." The words tie up in my mouth, but I force them out. I may never be this honest with you again, but I need to tell you this now before I take the coward's way out. "I will go through a million court houses and a million judges and juries even if it's for only five minutes with you." I lean forwards and carefully capture your lips in a gentle kiss. "I love you, Antonio. Don't you ever forget that."

You bark a laugh, and I don't know whether it is a genuine one or one born because you can do nothing else. "I'll be damned if I do, Lovi." You brush my lips with your own in a returning favour. My hands are shaking so badly I can barely cling on to you but I must in case I lose you again. I would rather die a hundred deaths than lose you.

You trace your lips along my body and kiss every part of me you have ever touched. I cling to you as the night grows older, and as we lie tangled in the blankets upon the ancient living room sofa, I hear you murmur to yourself as you fall into the sweet caress of slumber.

"I'll be damned if I do."

* * *

It's been such a long time since I uploaded anything that I decided to share this little experimental piece. I wanted to see if a piece from first person to second person would work, and while it's not perfect, I am quite proud of it.


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